


Dancing on his own

by Coco_c



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, ask siri prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21883585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coco_c/pseuds/Coco_c
Summary: Anon asked for an "Ask Siri prompt" with the word “Dancing”And Siri played “Dancing on my own” (Calum Scott cover)
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Dancing on his own

A restless, bitter, and heartbroken Jean Kirchstein arrived at a club he never liked. Music too loud, smoke from cigarettes making it impossible to breathe, weed, body odor, and what he considered a cheap disinfectant “scent”—air bunnies and all—. He wanted to go back to the studio and his final project the moment he crossed the door, too bad a superior self-destruction desire had decided he needed to stay. 

“What are you doing?”

Marco and Connie walked one step behind him, kept asking, and to be honest his brain wondered the same.

“Jean let's go for some burgers, I’m paying.” Connie’s final offer made him grin with utter bleakness. 

Inquiries and food apart, he had to be there. He just had to.

Mina’s apologetic smile came to view, irking him. His best friend’s girlfriend's distressed gaze didn’t help the situation. Her eyes moved from him to Marco, and to the dance floor, biting her lips. Even after Marco kissed her forehead, she had guilt all over her face. 

“Bro, let's go,” Connie almost pleaded. Jean’s rationality wanted to take it, and yet again, he ordered another beer, watching and feeling as a weird foreign movie played, a movie he didn't understand. Marco took his car keys to prevent a worst-case scenario and ordered a coke. Jean knew they wanted to prevent the unavoidable because he was going to make a fool of himself again. 

Last weekend they took his phone but in the end, Jean found Marco’s. I worked wonders as the person he called finally took his call, proving he was just being ignored or got his ass blocked. 

It hurt so bad and even he asked if Jean was okay. If Eren asked him that should mean something, Connie heard the futile and absurd hope growing bigger inside him. Like cancer. Like the roots breaking the foundation of a house, invading the pipes, and making it uninhabitable. 

It wasn’t as if he didn’t understand, but his heart had such a hard time letting go. Jean wanted to scream at himself after months of social media stalking, accidental encounters, and all the agonizing need overpowering his once upon a time dominant personality. 

_ “Stop pinning”, “move on”, “let him go”. _

His friends repeated over and over. Ymir got tired and demanded him to have some dignity. Even Mikasa held his hand when Eren waved hello at him and kept walking without a second glance. As if he was nothing. 

They were meant to be. They weren’t there when Eren sang for him. When they were the happiest couple in the world. Maybe, just maybe if he wooed Eren, if Jean changed the things that annoyed him… if Eren didn’t touch and kiss someone else. 

Failed hope, in Jeanbo’s case, led to vexation. 

“You can go,” as he paid for an overcharged beer Jean decided to ignore them and enjoy the show.

“Jean...” 

He liked Connie better in highschool. Back then, the now-taller guy cared only for whatever shenanigans Sasha plotted. Mature-and-shit Connie used his brain too much; he didn’t want a second Marco around. 

“Dude, we’re here, you saw him, now can we please go?” Marco said, offering him the same sad smile again, pissing him more. 

All of them acted as if something was wrong with him. 

He was fine.

Fucking. Fine.

“You and Connie can go, Mina and I stay,” the girl opened her mouth but said nothing. “Tell me about her.” 

The neon lights aggravated his migraine and even with a drunk sorority girl bumping into him, his eyes never lost the tall and slender figure dancing and kissing a petite blonde. His hair grew longer and the stupid man-bun looked kinda decent. Every time Eren took him in his mouth, Jean played with his hair, loving the soft cascade as he undid the bun. Now other hands stroked the hair he loved. 

“Mina, tell me about her.” 

“Jean, Marco is right, we should go,” Mina wasn’t smiling, finally one of them stopped the pitiful smiles. 

“When did you set them?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“When did you fucking set them?” Every word rasped his throat.

“That’s enough,” Marco grabbed his arm, his voice calm and soft. “I know this is hard, but you need to stop doing this shit, man.”

“Did I ask for your opinion?” being taller than his friends became in handy for the effect Jean aimed whilst angry. 

“It’s okay, I can answer him,” the girl stood between them, and Marco raised his hands, more annoyed than defeated. 

The more he knew about the new “friend”, the more the dagger dug the space his heart used to occupy. And whatever remained, collapsed. And to add insult to the injury Eren did the unforgivable; Jean’s head swirled as soon as he recognized the accords of the song the Tiësto-wannabe used for his next mix. The song by itself wouldn’t hurt enough, but watching him dancing their song with someone else—kissing someone else,—struck him. 

A plaintive, unison, and almost whispered “Fuck” was Marco and Connie reaction, followed by a more colorful description of what Connie thought of Eren Jaeger. He liked this version of Connie better. 

Jean wanted to be angry. 

It was easier that way. 

Jean sang the stupid song when Eren asked for a grand gesture. One too many jaeger bombs and Jean sang out of tune for him, his friends laughed and cringed but it didn’t matter because Eren kissed him yes. That was also the first romantic song they danced to, the song Eren requested for him more than once at the local station, and Jean got a line tattooed. It was the most stupid gift idea Sasha ever suggested but his now ex-boyfriend kind of wiped happy tears. He had all he ever wanted back then and the song fit them,  _ everything he did, he did it for Eren _ . That song was off-limits. Their fucking perfect song in a poor attempt of a mixing fusion with other nineties melodies; the destruction of their song matched so good what Jean felt. 

The bleakness numbing the fingers Eren promised to keep warm spread all over his body. 

They were happy, Jean made sure of it. 

Eren promised. 

What happened to them? The absence of any answer was driving him crazy. 

One day Eren dropped college, backpacked, and bought a one-way ticket to Argentina. The world was waiting for him, and so was Jean. Jean waited for his calls and postcards until he heard a simple  _ “I’m not coming back” _ ; no further explanation included. No more calls, no more stupid postcards, and still Jean waited. He did all the things no person should do after a breakup, sending texts, calling, never getting texts back, never getting his calls picked. Then, one day, in the freaking Starbucks line, he saw him. The “I’m not coming back” determination lasted one year; Jean wasn’t sure if it was that or the “ _I met someone_ ” what smashed his heart to death. 

Two years without him and suddenly all the people he followed on social media published photos with Eren. How could he moved on like every two stories rubbed showed? 

Two years without him, and there was Jean Kirchstein, remembering what he should forget and bury. The last kiss he gave him tasted like burnt scones and cum and deep down the fear he felt was a premonition but Eren’s smiles made Jean smile, so he played along. His arrogant-self believed no one could replace him in Eren’s affections and if a couple could survive a one-year long-distance relationship was them. It was a cold December, Eren was running late and asked him to stay. They weren’t saying goodbye, he told Jean. 

“Miss me,” he said, and missing him Jean did.

They met in the same stupid club, with the same cheap disinfectant. That night Eren bumped into him, and Jean fell in love. Blindly in love and happy as he never imagined possible. Maybe, too happy to be real. 

Watching the man he loved kissing someone else, Jean wiped the stubborn tears. Did he ever look that in love when they danced together? Did he ever love him to begin with?

Failed hope led to sorrow too, and it was too much to even try to keep his cool. Jean wanted to forget that he was forgettable. He wanted the emptiness to stop and the hope to end. 

Eren took her home, too happy to notice a guy dancing alone.

With psychedelic lights and badly mixed music, Jean danced to exorcise the pain, burying the wishful thinking, with eyes full of tears and two friends dancing with him. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write/publish a Jeaneren fic for so long. This is my way to exorcise my own demons. I just love them so much.


End file.
